


The Zumba One

by issiefrancis



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, technically i guess anyway lo, this is the stupidest thing ever, zumba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 08:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8571784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/issiefrancis/pseuds/issiefrancis
Summary: Erin takes Holtzmann to a Zumba class, feat. the traditional Abby-Patty Holtzbert bet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the stupidest thing I've ever written I'm so sorry.

"Holtzmann, you haven't left this lab in a  _ week _ ."

"I'm just a  _ little _ busy right now, Erin!" Holtzmann is holding a blowtorch and a pair of tongs to a pipe. It doesn't look serious. 

"Turn it off, then. I'm serious. You need to get out." Erin leans on the counter, waiting. She's been waiting since Tuesday last week, in fact. She's going to ask Holtzmann to her Zumba class, because of a stupid bet with Abby that she  _ knows _ she's going to lose. 

Holtzmann sighs and turns off the blowtorch. "Fine. Let's go get coffee." 

"I have a better idea." Erin smiles. She’s not going to win the bet, but she wants to give it a shot, at least: Abby had laughed her ass off when she found out. And then she'd bet her twenty bucks that she couldn't get Holtzmann to a Zumba class. 

“What?” Holtzmann only looks irritated, and Erin reconsiders her plan. Oh well. Too late now. She's already wearing her matching activewear, after all. 

"I'm going to Zumba class-" she says, and Holtzmann bursts out laughing. 

"You're joking," she gasps. " _ Zumba _ ? Oh, that is  _ so _ you." Holtzmann bangs her gloved hand on the table in mirth. 

"Come with me." Erin tries to hold a straight face. She doesn't care about the twenty dollars, but she would love to see Holtzmann in activewear. She's convinced that she has the perfect figure under all the ridiculous get-up she wears and Erin is curious (not attracted to her, for sure. Just curious.)

"Oh, you're definitely joking now." Holtzmann puts down the unlit blowtorch, staring incredulously. "You're not joking. Oh my god. I don't even own activewear." 

"You only wear sports bras, Holtzmann. Don't bullshit me."

"Okay, but  _ Zumba _ ?" 

"I'll fix up the equations for the miniature nuclear reactor for your proton light saber if you come." Erin's been saving that one for a week, since she spotted Holtzmann's mistake shortly after making the bet.

"You can  _ do _ that? I've been struggling for weeks-" Holtzmann screws up her face, clearly debating how much she wants an actual  _ light saber  _ versus the humiliation of dancing for fitness with a bunch of middle-aged moms. 

"And I'll-" 

"Fine, I'll come. Hold on." 

Erin's jaw drops. She hadn't expected to actually convince Holtzmann to go to a frickin' dance class. She's stripping down to just a sports bra and she knots her overalls around the waist. 

"No. You can dance barefoot if you have strong ankles, but you absolutely cannot wear overalls to a dance class – are those  _ abs _ ?" Erin stares unashamedly. 

"Who does all the heavy lifting?" Holtzmann winks, staring Erin right in the face. 

"Here, I've got some spare stuff." Erin shakes her head, pulling her extra activewear out of the drawer and tossing it to Holtzmann. "You can leave just the bra if you want, loads of people do."

Holtzmann changes in five seconds flat and follows Erin to the car, calling both the driver's seat and the music choicce. 

***

"Okay, we'll go at the back in case someone recognises us. Also, because it's less embarrassing." Erin deftly twists her hair into a ponytail as she speaks. Holtzmann would be lying if she said part of her motivation wasn't just Erin's lovely ass in tights and the prospect of seeing her sweaty and hot without being covered in ecto-projection. Thus far, her ass has not disappointed, but she’s yet to see the sweaty or the hot.

"Hey everyone!" The instructor shouts from the front of the room. "Is there anyone new to Zumba today?" 

Erin nudges Holtzmann and she slowly raises her hand, grimacing sideways. 

"Wow, awesome! So just follow me and everyone else and you'll be fine." She gives a big thumbs up and grins. "Remember to drink, everyone." She starts the music, stepping  side to side in time with the beat. 

_ This isn't so bad _ , Holtzmann thinks. She's keeping up okay. Then the instructor goes for the arms, waving them side to side in a pseudo-army instructor style. She tries hard not to laugh while she copies, but loses the battle when she looks at Erin and sees her stiff-jointedly following. Then the movement changes, and Erin swings towards her. Holtzmann quickly heads right, confused about  _ how _ exactly the instructor's feet are crossing over. In lieu of the proper movement she just crabwalks side to side, making zombie arms. 

She hears Erin snort behind her as they clap in time to the music. She smiles back, deliberately making funny faces to hear her breathless laugh. 

They keep going, and going, and Holtzmann has a newfound appreciation for people who actually do more cardio than just periodically running around with proton packs. When she doesn't think she can do any more, she just flops on the floor, gasping for breath. 

Erin chuckles, sipping from a water bottle and handing one to Holtzmann. "Get up. We're doing cool-down now." 

Holtzmann staggers to her feet, grateful for the slow pace of the cool-down exercise, and horrified by the fact that it is set to  _ Let It Go _ , from  _ Frozen _ . And not the radio version either. The  _ original _ . As she lunges forward, there's a distinct twinge in her right calf and she jerks upright, gasping in pain. Erin looks over abruptly, losing her concentration, then topples right over. Holtzmann laughs, forgetting the pain for a second, and leans over to help her up. Her leg twinges again as she tugs Erin’s arm. 

Erin notices, whispering, “Are you okay?”

"Think I pulled a muscle or something," Holtzmann grouches. She bends over, trying to stretch it out, but something yanks and she grits her teeth. "Hey, Er, any chance you could drive home?" 

From her upside-down stretch, she replies. "Yeah, of course. Are you gonna be okay on the ride home? We can stop and get some ice or something." 

Holtzmann rolls her eyes. "It's a pulled muscle, not a gunshot wound." 

"I'm just trying to be nice!" 

The instructor finishes with a cheerful wave, eyeing Holtzmann and Erin dubiously. Holtzmann rolls her eyes even more aggressively and follow Erin to the car with a distinct limp. 

It's not long before Holtzmann is clinging to the edges of her seat, screaming, "Erin!" at every red light and corner. For all her ribbing, Erin is much,  _ much _ worse at driving than Holtzmann. At least Holtzmann has complete control over her crazy decisions. She doesn't know if Erin just doesn't know that what she's doing is illegal, or if she truly is so awful that she can't help it, but it's terrifying. 

Holtzmann loves thrills, but she also loves to be in control. And not wearing activewear. If she died, she would rather be incinerated than have anyone know that she had been to a Zumba class. 

For the last ten minutes, she just puts her hands over her face and lets out an expletive whenever the gearbox grinds. 

"See, I didn't kill us," Erin says proudly, parking the car in the garage, and just barely missing a nuclear reactor lying on the ground. Holtzmann gives a strangled scream into her hands. 

"Don't you  _ ever _ give me shit about being unsafe ever again. That was the sole most terrifying experience I have ever had. Also, dibs on the shower." 

"Not before we ice that leg," Erin says, apparently unperturbed by her lack of driving skills, but furrowing her brow at Holtzmann, offering her a hand as she struggles to get out without hurting her leg more.

"Erin, have you ever done a first aid course in your life?" Holtzmann follows her, limping only slightly now that she's upright. She collapses in the chair closest to the hall and sighs, rubbing her leg. 

"I go to a lot of Zumba," Erin says cryptically. She goes to the freezer and pulls one of several ice packs, wrapping it in a tea towel and kneeling to hold it to the muscle. 

"Little lower," Holtzmann says, nudging her hand downwards. She winces as the ice pack touches her sweaty leg.

Erin sighs, looking up at her with wide eyes. "I'm sorry. I thought it would be fun, and now you're hurt." 

"It's fine!" Holtzmann shrugs, not because it doesn’t hurt, but because she doesn’t like it when Erin feels bad. “It's not your fault. And – if you tell Abby I said this, I'll kill you – but it was kind of fun." 

"Yes!" Erin's face lights up, and the ice pack shifts a little on her leg. "Will you come next week?" 

"If I've recovered from this grave injury." Holtzmann points down and makes a face. 

"Oh, shush." Erin leans against Holtzmann's sweaty thigh and smiles. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. And sorry about my driving." 

"Jesus, never again." 

"Just Erin’s fine," Erin quips, stealing one of Holtzmann’s own jokes. Holtzmann laughs unexpectedly. 

"Hey Erin?" Holtzmann says, her heart beating faster as she leans down a tiny bit. “I’m going to kiss you.” And so she does.

***

Abby sighs, watching from the hallway. Patty comes up behind her. "You owe me twenty bucks," she whispers. 

"I also owe Erin twenty bucks," Abby whispers back, sighing. "I can't believe she convinced Holtzmann to do  _ Zumba _ . They're in it for the long haul."

"It's cute," Patty murmurs, snapping a picture on her phone. "I ship it."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this ridiculous drabble lol.


End file.
